I had the fantasy all of my youth that I would come across and be accepted into a loving and caring family. That’s literally all I ever wanted – to live with good people who loved each other. In my fantasies sometimes they were foreign aid workers I met on the job, sometimes they were farmers; it didn’t matter as long as they had space for me. I gave up that dream when I met my now husband and we set a path together as the two of us.
When I was born I became the fifth member of my nuclear family. Of the four existing, three are narcissistic sociopaths and the other one is so addicted to being a victim that she obsessively places herself and those in her control in abusive situations. I married someone with an average family of “we love you because you’re one of us and we tolerate you because you always will be.” And I don’t for a moment take for granted that my spouse somehow unceasingly covers me in his love and protection.
Last night I again dreamt that I came across a family of good people who loved each other, and I desperately wanted to be a part of them.
I guess there’s a part of me that will always crave the acceptance, love, and unconditional support of a family I’ll never know.
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